


Half Garbage

by finlyfoe



Series: The R.E.M. collection [4]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Fun, Gen, One-Shot, prompts, scribbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finlyfoe/pseuds/finlyfoe
Summary: NEW: "Who should Carrie call"A collection of comment fics, previously posted on LJ





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laure001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laure001/gifts), [Bwg71](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bwg71/gifts), [busybee17](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=busybee17).



> Sorry mostly no new stuff - but a short fun read. Enjoy!

 

  1. **_Carrie bites back_** **-prompt by busybee17**



A playground. Early afternoon. A dark-haired kid, dirt in his face, maybe five years old, sits in the sand, a world away, moving a little orange plastic digger back and forth, back and forth.  
Enter a young mom, blonde and stylish, with two girls, one about six, the other maybe four. The mom walks up to a bench, takes out a plastic bag, puts it on the bench to sit on it gingerly and asks the girls to pay attention.  
“Don’t sit down in the sand, Carrie, Maggie, you hear me? It’s wet. You’ll catch a cold.” “But that boy-“ “Doesn’t matter. You won’t you hear me?”  
The older girl, pony-tail teetering, nods. The younger girl bites her lips and stares at the boy in the sand.  
“Now off you go!” She takes out a book.  
Maggie runs for the swings.  
Carrie keeps staring at the boy in the sand. Big blue eyes, snot running, all caught up in his game, paying no attention to the peeping girl. Digger back and forth, back and forth. Three minutes, five minutes, ten minutes.  
Maggie gets tired of the swings on her own. “Carrie, come here, let’s try the seesaw.”  
Carrie doesn’t react. Then, all of a sudden, she steps forward and grabs the digger. All chubby fingers but an iron grip. The boy obviously doesn’t know what’s happening here. He stares at her dumbfounded.  
“It’s mine”, he says, panic in his high-pitched voice. “Let go!”  
Iron grip. Not a chance he’ll get his toy back. He pulls. She holds on. His face darkens, and all of a sudden, he’s biting her hand.  
She shrieks with pain but mostly with surprise and lets go. Two wide-eyed kids, one digger, complete resolve. Little Carrie clenches her fists, snarls and puts her dents into the boy’s meager arm.  
He howls, and now the grown-ups come running, dragging the adversaries away, giving them lectures, throwing dark glances, chaos and havoc.  
The digger stays behind, forgotten.  
***

  1. **_Sex-related words never to use on fan fics-_** **prompt by Laure001**



Girls‘ nite out in Islamabad.  
Well, there aren’t too many opportunities for that, so go for it. A reception at the German Embassy, a celebration of „Weltfrauentag“ on March 8th. Female ambassador, you know. Guys are not exactly banned from the premises ... they simply have fled (rumor has it, to the Russian embassy).  
Carrie Mathison at the bar. She had a drink or two – not to get over any dronestrike-cf, just… Next to her is a tall blonde German woman. Ponytail. Dark eyes. A jaded expression and an amused if somewhat distanced look in her eyes. Normally. Tonight she is less controlled…  
Astrid (clearly intoxicated, German accent): God… those Russian girls…  
She clings to the counter.  
The mentioned Russian girls giggle.  
Carrie gives them a smile, so one of them bends her head and whispers in her ear: „So much for the Ice Queen…“  
The next one bends to Carrie’s other ear: „She’s not that much of an Ice Queen. I heard she’s lovesick. That guy of hers… the American… Peter… Peter something…“  
„Peter Quinn… right…“  
„Peter Quinn?“ Carrie looks thunderstruck.  
…  
Ten minutes later.  
Carrie approaches Astrid, a bottle of Wodka in hand and a plan. A vicious plan.  
She fills two glasses, hands Astrid one, toasts.  
„So your boyfriend doesn't commit?“  
„One never can say with him.“ Astrid puts her head at rest on the counter.  
„Yeah, I know…. I mean: guys…“  
Astrid closes her eyes. „Talking… is difficult… with him.“  
„Yeah, I know… I mean: guys….“  
„Being German doesn’t help.“  
„No.. I mean: No – your English is very good.“  
„Mhm. Not in all respects.“  
„I see. So… your love-life is somewhat…. lame?“  
No reply. Is Astrid prudent, prissy or… afflicted? – Doesn’t matter, Carrie will execute her vicious plan:  
„I could help you with some expressions, you know…. For more fun in bed.“  
Astrid opens one eye. „You think… we would need that?“  
„Wouldn’t hurt…. So, next time you want him to go wild“ – Astrid throws her an awkward glance – „you start moaning and go, „Oh please please shove your throbbing manhood into my iced donut, touch my love button with your longing fingers, plant your seed into my desiring vessel and lavishingly wet my mounds vibrating all eager with extacy.“  
Astrid raises her brow, gets up and leaves.  
Damn, didn’t work too well.

  1. **_Who’s gonna wash Peter Quinn’s hair_** **-prompt by bwg71, based on season 6 set pics**



DAR ADAL glances at his calendar: Tomorrow’s entry: Peter.  
He sighs and starts pacing the room.  
  
ADAL (to himself): The unkempt hair - the hobo attitude - this is so - offending… Really, I don’t know why I expose myself every time…  
  
A tiny angel and a tiny devil materialize out of nowhere. Angel sitting on his right, devil on his left shoulder.  
  
DEVIL: Cancel. Nobody can blame you. You are a busy man. No need to waste your time with an unruly subject.  
ANGEL: But Adal - your poor guy - all alone and broken -  
DEVIL: Pah - all he’ll do is stone you with the donuts you care to bring and act all battered broken soldier-  
ANGEL: But he is a battered broken soldier, and these donuts were really dry last time, I mean, you bought them two days ahead…-  
DEVIL: Pah - no reason to indulge in his so-called misery. Is he a man or a jelly-babe? And a shower now and again and washing his hair wouldn’t hurt, it’s not as if he was in some rabbit-hole in Syria, right?!  
  
Adal sighs.  
Devil and angel vanish. Adal picks up the phone, dials a number.  
  
ADAL: … He still refuses to wash his hair? (….)  
  
Adal hangs up.  
  
ADAL (to himself): OK - so this leaves me but one choice….  
  
He dials another number.  
  
ADAL: R&R, special department? Dar Adal speaking. … Clarice, how are you my dear?... Indeed I call for a reason - I have an urgent request for today… Peter Quinn, in rehab… Wash his hair and clean him up. I don’t care what it takes - violence, blackmail, drugs, sex - but have it done before tomorrow 9 sharp…. You are a darling…  
  
He hangs up, visibly relieved.

  * The end – till further notice!



 


	2. An Awkward Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie at her most desperate - Frannie has been taken away by the CPS. She calls the president-elect for help. Keane refuses.  
> So who could she call now?  
> Based on a fic prompt on LJ - "Who should 6.07 Carrie call?"

**An awkward call**

Carrie has to think clearly now, she really has to. She needs help from someone who knows the right people. Someone who’s willing to fight injustice. Someone who appreciates her. Someone who’s not the president elect.

This is awkward, given their last encounter, but…. After all he had said he missed Franny, so…

Carrie takes out her phone. It might have been rash to erase his private number, but the office-number she knows by heart. As it is early morning in Berlin, she might be lucky and get through to him straightaway. Her fingers are shaking and she has to twinkle when further tears make her sight all blurry.

Beep. Beep.

“Ja?”

A male voice. Thank God he’s in.

“Oh my God I’m so glad you’re there. I’m so - Something really, really bad happen. Really bad. They- they took Franny. CPS did. I’m an unfit mother, they say. They didn’t even let me see her. I mean, she leaves in the morning and everything’s perfect, maybe not perfect, I was up all night, I had to stay up because of that man opposite. He watches us, that’s what Quinn said before they took him down. But we have a new security system now, Max did install it. Do you know Max? My friend Max? He’s gorgeous. I mean not gorgeous like in gorgeous, but gorgeous. And all would be safe now that we have that new security system, I wouldn’t need to sit next to her bed and watch her all night, gun in hand… Not all fine of course. They blew up my client. I don’t know why, but they did. In the middle of Brooklyn bridge. You must have seen it on TV. They say he was a terrorist, but that’s bullshit. He was just a bigmouthed kid from a disadvantaged family and that makes me so sick, how they killed him to make us all go paranoid again. They even killed Conlin, can you believe it, just as I grew to like him, he was FBI, so - well not like him like in like him but… I’m sorry I’m sorry, everything’s falling apart and I have difficulties sticking to the issue, it’s just – I want to make you understand how all this could happen. I didn’t know Frannie was afraid of Quinn, I swear to God. I still can’t believe she is. I mean, she asked about him when we came back to our house, after that incident – maybe it was on German TV? Demonstrations, against me, against our organization, so you must have seen it… he’s Quinn, he can harm people, he’s a trained warfighter, but he doesn’t harm us, that’s bullshit, he trusts me, well trusted me. And he adores Franny, he does. It was not a hostage situation, believe me. He is – afflicted. Gravely. I couldn’t leave him in the vets’ hospital. I just couldn’t. He never endangered her. Or me. I never would have taken it, for fuck’s sake. That mug was just – he was in a foul mood. Which I get. I do. But he locked them up to keep them safe. And now they say I’m a danger to my daughter. I had that gun to protect her, goddamit! I fully cooperated, which only made things worse. I talked to that Lonas-woman, that snake, all friendly and concerned only to stab me in the back. Taking my daughter away. I didn’t even get to see her. Just dragged her away from school… she couldn’t even bring Hop. I don’t know what to do, you gotta help me! She must feel so alone. She must think I don’t care about her. That I left her. They gotta let me see her. They got to.”

She breaks into a wail.

Long silence at the other end of the line.

Carrie sniffs, gulps. Tries to pull herself together.

“I’m sorry Otto, I sound like a madwoman but I’m not. I really really need your help. Please. For Frannie. You know she’s the most precious thing in my life. You know I’d never harm or endanger my little girl.”

“Carrie – are you off your meds?”

Fuck.

It’s not Otto. It’s Jonas.  
The ironic end of a disastrous day. Carrie starts crying, again. Hard. Uncontrollably.

“Carrie – are you alright?”

A sob is the answer.

But as they say, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel.

He doesn’t start a lecture, rubbing salt into her wounds with remarks like “Jesus, Carrie, your life is a disaster! I told you - why can’t you stay away from _those people_ – see where it took you… That Quinn, is he the guy who bleeded out in that hideout in Berlin? I knew he was bad news. Everyone refusing to see a doctor with a gun-shot wound can’t be in his right mind.”  
After all, he’s still the guy she once was attracted to. The guy who got all upset when his son went missing. Which she sort of dismissed. He doesn’t hold her accountable for that. Not tonight. Not in the state she’s in.

“The CPS took Frannie away? –Carrie, I’m really sorry.”

A moment of silence. She could hang up now. He could hang up now.  They don’t.

“Carrie – I have a colleague specializing in CPS-cases. I’ll call him and ask him to contact you. In, about, eight hours. Alright? Try to get some rest now. Don’t skip your meds. OK?”

“Yes”, she whispers.

“I miss her too”, he says.

A sniff.

He sighs. Silence. Another sniff.

“Alright then… He’ll be in touch.”

Beeeeeeeeeeeep. The line goes dead.

Carrie puts away the phone, rubs her eyes and goes to get herself a glass of water.

 


End file.
